


Commander

by Sinister_Kid



Series: Midnight Madness [9]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Biotic Shepard (Mass Effect), Bisexual Cullen Rutherford, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, M/M, POV Cullen Rutherford, Past Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan - Freeform, Past Relationship(s), Slow Build, Slow Burn, Templar Cullen Rutherford
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 06:07:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26967196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinister_Kid/pseuds/Sinister_Kid
Summary: When a strange ship falls from the sky and crashes into the Waking Sea, Commander Cullen and the Inquisiton are left clueless as to how to explain such boggling circumstances. The surviving crew of this mysterious sky ship are led by a man named John Shepard, with intriguing abilites called biotics that closely mirror spellcasting.The Commander of the Inquisition finds him fascinating.And the Commander of the Normandy finds Cullen interesting as well.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Male Shepard
Series: Midnight Madness [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1155851
Comments: 10
Kudos: 8





	Commander

**Author's Note:**

> This was qritten for a Discord server. We'll see how it goes.
> 
> -SB

Cullen stared down at the unconscious figure sprawled across the cot in the belly of the Qunari dreadnought. The figure was a man, wearing the most peculiar armor. It was not quite leather but not quite cloth either, but it most certainly wasn't metal. Some strange material, black in color, with a curious red symbol on the chest plate. “N-7”. The Inquisition's Commander had no idea what it was meant to represent, and found himself staring at the symbol as the stranger slept soundly, the waves of the Waking Sea gently rocking the ship this way and that.

It was a wonder that Cullen should find himself on a Qunari warship of all things, but the Inquisitor had allied with the sea faring conquerors some months ago, and in the days since, the Qunari had been patrolling the waters hunting down Venatori and slaver ships from Tevinter. The Inquisitor thought it would be a nice reprieve from their ordinary duties to join them on one such pleasure cruise and elected the Commander among others to join her. Ambassador Josephine and Sister Leliana stayed behind to run Skyhold, and Commander Rylen currently occupied Cullen's office to receive reports and issue troops.

Cullen had only ever been on a ship twice in his life, that he could recall. The first time he'd left Ferelden after the fall of the Circle tower during the Blight, and the second was his trip across the sea from Kirkwall when he first joined the Divine's army at Cassandra's behest and made the journey to the Frostback Mountains to attend the Conclave. Neither experiences warranted any strong love for sailing, and if the decision were Cullen's to make, he'd sink the dreadnought in the murky waters. Build a bridge from Kirkwall to Jader and travel by horse. A 'land lover', the sailors called him, and he was proudly so.

But it was on this expedition across the open waters in search of enemy ships that they encountered something strange, even for their standards. Several nights before, a strange light could be seen in the sky, gradually getting larger and larger as it neared the water. A loud roar of a sound could be heard, somewhat like a dragon and for a split second, Cullen thought that’s precisely what it was. A large metal dragon crashing in the bleak distance, causing a tidal wave and nearly capsizing the dreadnought. But when they reached the partially sinking monstrosity, they found it to be a ship of sorts. A ship...

That fell from the sky.

They'd carefully explored the wreckage to find people aboard. Unfortunately not all of the crew survived, however. The man the Inquisitor guessed might have been piloting the machine had perished. Many of his bones had been broken, as it appeared the machine had taken a nosedive and he was the first to die. Several others that had been aboard the top deck of the ship, some sort of navigation center, had also died in the crash. But among those that survived were strange non-human creatures that were nothing like any race ever discovered in Thedas.

And then there was this man, the man Cullen currently hovered over, watching intently while he slept. He'd still been conscious when they pulled him from the sky ship, though severely injured and in desperate need of a healer as he'd barely clung to life. But he was conscious enough to utter his name when the Inquisitor inquired of his identity. “Commander John Shepard,” he’d weakly rasped out. “Captain of the Normandy.” He was their leader, and fell unconscious shortly after addressing himself. Cullen and the others had many questions for the man when he woke up.

Like where he came from. Why they crashed. And what were these strange weapons they carried and alien creatures they had aboard their ship?

Cullen let his eyes wander over the man's face. Admittedly, he was quite handsome. He possessed a shock of pitch black hair and chiseled features. He too had a scar on his face, and Cullen had no doubt the man had seen battle at some point in his life. Had it been a battle among the stars? Aboard this sky ship of his? Against strange and monstrous creatures such as the ones numbered among his crew? Had he any family that missed him at home? Wherever that was? Had a way to contact the rest of his people to get home? Or any knowledge of how to repair his ship? 

If it could even be repaired. Half of it was in the bottom of the ocean. But so many questions raced in Cullen's mind as the warrior slept, the incessant rocking of the warship beginning to churn the Commander's stomach again. But in a pique of interest, he boldly reached to brush a stray hair from Commander Shepard's face, watching it fall to the side of his cheek. Would that he could, he would shake him awake that instant and beg him to tell Cullen his entire life's story. He snatched his hand away quickly when he heard the Inquisitor's footsteps coming down the ladder.

“Is he awake yet?” Lady Trevelyan asked, clutching her staff even though there was no need for it just yet. They had no idea if these people were truly a threat, but the Inquisitor was more cautious than any of them. She made Cullen's own paranoia look like a stroll in the garden. The Commander shook his golden head. She came to stand beside him, placing a hand on his arm. “Are you alright?” she asked him. “You look troubled by all this. The others are quite curious too, but you look like you've seen a ghost. What's on your mind, Commander?”

“It's just the ship,” he said, brushing off her concern, and her hand where it rested on his arm. He didn't enjoy Lady Trevelyan taking such personal liberties with him after making it very clear to him that she wasn't interested in a relationship. Weeks before, she'd broken things off between them, but while she tried her best to keep things civil between them for the sake of their duties, she also behaved as if they could somehow be friends still. As if there had never been a romantic relationship between them, and what they shared was only ever a bit of kinship to begin with. He bristled at her touch.

At least the Lyrium in his veins worked to drown out the ache in his heart left behind at her rejection. With its song filling his senses, he hardly felt any emotion for the Inquisitor now. Only bitterness and regret. She clicked her teeth at Cullen’s obvious dismissal and said, “Keep me posted, and let me know when he wakes. I have Vivienne keeping close watch on the others. The Qunari are getting restless. Their captain suggested we simply kill them, and I had to talk him out of it. I don’t know how much longer I can keep them calm before they just start attacking regardless of what I say.”

“They’ve done absolutely nothing to harm us, Inquisitor,” Cullen told her, as aloof and emotionless as possible. “And there are enough of us aboard this ship that we’re more than capable of dispensing of them, should they choose to turn on us. But I highly doubt they will. We saved their lives, as many of them as we could.”

“Very true,” Lady Trevelyan agreed. “But I think we should remain on guard, nevertheless. Be prepared for whatever the worst case scenario. I’ll check back with you later.”

She turned and left the Commander there in the bowels of the ship, next to Commander Shepard’s cot. His breath was steady, chest slowly rising and falling in a predictable rhythm. He was stable, at the very least, and no longer in darker waters, so to speak. He would survive, though he would struggle to breathe for days after, perhaps even walk. Cullen highly doubted he would be a threat to anyone for quite some time. His brow furrowed in his sleep, and his head jerked a little, indicating a dream. Likely not a pleasant one. Perhaps reliving those last moments before the ship crashed in the sea.

Cullen raised a hand to his mouth, feeling acid in the back of his throat, the beginnings of seasickness. He would have to find someone to take his watch momentarily and head topside, lest he spill his dinner all over the sleeping warrior. He clutched the sword at his hip to anchor himself mentally and stumbled toward the ladder in search of a member of the Inquisition. After weaving his way through the labyrinth of passageways of the ship, he finally found the hatch that led to the top deck and climbed out. He found a corporal and directed them to the room where they’d stored the Commander of the Normandy.

Then he upchucked over the railing.

“Maker’s breath, I don’t get paid enough for this,” he grumbled to himself as he wiped his mouth.

It was destined to be a long night for the Inquisition’s Commander, and morning could not come soon enough.

* * *

Hours passed by slowly as if each grain of sand in the hour glass fell in slow motion, time suspended for the moment and lumbering by at the pace of a snail. Members of the Inquisition and the dreadnought’s crew were all restless aboard the ship. As night slowly passed them by and became early morning, the sky eventually lightened from deep blue to silver and eventually glowed with the rising sun. At its first ray of light there were signs of the Commander stirring below deck, the young corporal popping his head up through the hatch to inform the Inquisition that he was waking up.

Cullen was the first to dart toward the hatch, Lady Trevelyan following closely behind him in step. Her pristine battlemage armor rustling with her movement, both sets of boots clacking on the hard surface of the ship’s floor. Ever nerve of Cullen’s was on edge as they neared the end of the corridor and turned aft, then sought the ladder that descended into the bottom levels of the ship. Cullen allowed the Inquisitor to enter first, at her insistence, then watched her pull her staff from her back and point it at the man halfway sitting up on the cot. Two wide green eyes traveled from the Inquisitor up to Cullen and back again.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you,” Lady Trevelyan snarled, taking the offensive stance, violet colored lightning sparking from the focusing crystal on the end of her staff.

Cullen was seconds away from rolling his eyes and insisting that she was being overcautious again, when the most bizarre thing happened. Shepard went on the defensive, raised his hand with what appeared to be magical ability of his own, and conjured a strange blue light. He then force pushed the Inquisitor away from him with what little strength he possessed–though he made it look so easy–and pinned her against the wall with a glowing blue barrier of some kind. She raged at the attack, violently thrashing and throwing sparks in no particular direction, but clearly aimed at him in retaliation.

Cullen’s next reaction was near instinctive. Neutralize, but not harm, had been what his instructors taught him. Save the killing blow as a last resort. He quickly drew his sword and struck it down to the floor. Both the Inquisitor and her opponent were affected by the smite he’d conjured forth, the flux of Lyrium effectively shattering the barrier and nullifying the sparks of lightning. Evelyn crumpled to the floor, having been the most weakened by the attack, and Shepard slumped against the cot once more, conscious still, but in a stupor. “Whaa…what d-did you do?” he stammered as Cullen approached. “M-my biotics. How did you…”

“I am a Templar,” Cullen informed stiffly. “I’ve just temporarily severed the connection to your magical abilities. It will pass in due time. I apologize for the Inquisitor’s suspicion of you, but we truly mean you no harm. There is no reason to attack us.”

Shepard swallowed, appearing as if he were gasping for air. Struggling to breathe in part from his injury and now also Cullen’s smite. “Who are you?” he rasped, shakily, wide eyes staring up at Cullen in disbelief.

“Cullen Rutherford,” he introduced. “I imagine you have a lot of questions.”

“I s-suspect I’m n-not the only one,” Shepard stuttered.

“A very accurate assumption… _Commander_.”


End file.
